The booby father craves a booby son, And by Heaven's blessing thinks himself undone.
Heaven wills our happiness, allows our doom.
The man who builds, and wants wherewith to pay, Provides a home from which to run away.
The bell strikes one. We take no note of time But from its loss.
Men are but men; we did not make ourselves.
Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!